Pearl Diaries
by TheFayre
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has been blind from birth, this doesn't stop him from being the world's only consulting detective. No one said the path he'd picked out was going to be an easy one but he had a determination to prove his mother's predictions, of him turning out to serve no purpose, wrong.
1. Chapter 1

The child ran from his older brother, full of smiles and laughter as he was chased around the library. He had one arm outstretched and in contact with the bookshelves, letting his fingers run along the spines of the books as he dashed away. His older brother had been blindfolded in an attempt to make it easier for the smaller child to win this game, although that just made it grossly unfair. Without his sight Sherlock could function like any other child would of his age, although the fact that he hadn't known any different probably helped and as for Mycroft, well, once you put the blindfold on there really was no chance he would win without some sort of divine intervention.

"Mycroft, you're rubbish at this!" The small child laughed and span around in a circle to wait for his brother who he could hear blundering around behind him like some great clumsy elephant. Unfortunately this is exactly what Mycroft needed to catch his little brother and he leapt towards the sound with a wolfish grin across his lips as he tasted triumph in the air. He caught Sherlock as he tried to wriggle away. He scooped him up in his arms and took his blindfold off, looking at the giggling person in his arms with no less than adoration in his eyes.

Sherlock couldn't help but let out silvery peals of laughter that warmed the very air of the library as he grabbed onto Mycroft's suit. He snuggled up against him and giggled softly as his brother wrapped his arms around him; trapping him there. "A-alright, you win!" This made his brother grin with a certain air of smugness that was the product of winning a rare acknowledgement from the child. Sherlock had won the game though, and they both knew it, he was now exactly where he wanted to be; in his brother's arms and curling up against the expensive suits he'd come to associate with Safety and Warmth and Mycroft.

"I did indeed, little one, although I hit a lot of bookcases on the way round." He leant down and kissed over Sherlock's milk blind eyes. "One day, I'll catch you quicker but for now, I believe we've earned a chance to get milk and biscuits, do you not agree?" Sherlock mumbled his approval of this plan and Mycroft hoisted the smiling child onto his hip, carrying him from the warmth of the library and out onto the first floor corridor that ran a little way along the house.

Sherlock had laid his head carefully against the crook of Mycroft's neck and the smile hadn't had a chance to fade from his lips before he was grinning again. "Only if we can have chocolate ones and listen to the radio... Besides, you still owe me an extra biscuit from when I won hide and seek yesterday." Sherlock never, _never, _forgot when he was owed his winnings. His brother couldn't help but laugh at this and he tapped his fingers against the child's back as he carried him down the grand staircase and headed towards the drawing room.

It was getting later now and wouldn't be long until it was time for Mycroft to take his brother to bed. His mother was always away at a meeting or a party or some other event that absolutely _couldn't _be missed and so Mycroft looked after Sherlock where she wouldn't. It had been like a mantra that he'd heard over and over since Sherlock's birth; 'That boy will amount to nothing, not without his eyes!' It was as if Sherlock were to be blamed for his blindness, of course mother's lack of faith never seemed to affect him but that didn't mean Mycroft would abandon him to his fate. He'd spent years teaching Sherlock how to be as good as sighted people and had become almost his sole carer, Sherlock loved it. He couldn't help but love his older brother as they adventured in the orchards or spent evenings curled up on the sofa listening to whatever radio production caught Sherlock's attentions.

"Of course you can, you can listen to your radio show and then you really must go to bed. Mother wouldn't be pleased if she found you'd been up all night reading." He smiled as he thought about that, he'd spent long hours sourcing books that would interest the child that could still be bought in Braille. That in itself had been a feat considering Sherlock's taste in reading matter. There had been the night when he had gotten up to check on his brother at some small hour of the morning to find him pouring over a book about bees. Obviously, Then had come the following conversation on whether or not Mycroft would build him an apiary in the garden by the orchard.

The answer had been 'no, definitely not' and suffice to say Sherlock wasn't happy about that at all.

"I won't, 'Croft" Sherlock protested with the ease of a young child who knew he had no plan on following the rules, successfully waking Mycroft up from his reminiscing. He looked down at Sherlock and shifted his weight on his hip. "Oh all right, Sherlock, I believe you" He carried the child into the drawing room and amused himself by throwing him onto the leather sofa.

Sherlock flailed as he flew through the air and let out a squeal as he hit the cushions of the sofa. "Mycroft! You idiot, I could of _died!" _He sat up and scowled, the eight year old's features screwed up in a frown as directed his annoyance furiously in the direction he'd last heard Mycroft move. "Mother would have been so cross!" It was Mycroft's turn to laugh then as he took his place beside Sherlock on the sofa and ruffled his soft curls in affection. "She might of been, but fortunately for you the sofa was a only couple of feet away and incredibly soft." To this Sherlock prodded his brother's arm in annoyance, it were obvious to him that he definitely could have died or worse; hit his head and become an _idiot._

"You'll have to get the milk and biscuits, Mycroft, you need the exercise." He was still grumpy about being thrown. No one could sulk like Sherlock could and he was displaying his finesse in the skill as he sat with his arms crossed and kicked his legs. Mycroft just sighed and placed a hand upon Sherlock's shoulder, "Of course, Brother mine. Just cheer up by the time I get back, we can't have you sulking all evening."

He stood and smiled, knowing his sulking wouldn't last upon his return with biscuits.

Only a short while later, Mycroft returned to find a sleeping Sherlock curled up on a sofa with the radio playing softly in the background, he smiled at his brother and placed the tray upon the drinks cabinet. Apparently the day's games had tired him out completely to the point of exhaustion. His older brother was smiling as he turned the radio dial around to 'off' before picking Sherlock up in his arms and carrying him upstairs to his bedroom.

Sherlock mumbled as he was tucked up in bed, his hand catching hold of Mycroft's sleeve. "M'croft?"

"Yes, brother dear?"

Sherlock wriggled himself into a sitting position and frowns, his hands now balled up in the counterpane as he spoke again. "I'm sort of nervous about tomorrow"

Tomorrow being Sherlock's first day of 'proper' school after mother had refused to have him home schooled for any longer. Her reasoning being it wasn't worth throwing away the money on a child who would just end up distracted by whatever was happening else where in the house.

"..." This surprised Mycroft a little, considering Sherlock had seemed rather excited before this point. "Why are you nervous, Sherlock?"

"Well, because there are going to be a lot of people, right? And... Well, I don't mind if they don't like me but what if they think my eyes are like monsters eyes?" He'd recently read a book in which a hideous monster had been described as having 'Monstrous, white blind eyes'

"Of course they won't! If they do, just tell your teacher or tell me and we'll sort it out. Remember, if you don't like the school we'll find somewhere else." He hugged his brother quickly, lacing his fingers into the child's hair and pulling him close. He doubted Sherlock's ability to make friends, not in a way that was designed to offend him but more in a concern for his younger brother. He hated the idea of him being alone in school.

"O-okay, Mycroft." He yawned sleepily before untangling himself from his brother and burying himself beneath the duvet. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like he had a plan to find people who liked bees.

Mycroft laughed and stood up, making his way to the door. "Goodnight, Sherlock. Sleep well and relax. You'll enjoy tomorrow more if you get a good night's rest." He said this with the wisdom of an older brother before leaving Sherlock's room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Notes:

- Sherlock has Retinopahy of Prematurity: Stage Five. This involves premature babies being born with semi/fully detached retinas. Stage five causes full blindness and is never [normally] operable.

-The radio show he listens to is called Dick Barton's Special Agents. A radio production for the BBC that involved Captain Richard Barton and his two associates Jock and Snowy, as they solved crimes and mysteries.

-Although Sherlock's blind he has learnt to walk without a cane due to the tutelage of his brother, this is possible but takes a lot of experience, dedication and observation. That and confidence, due to Sherlock's nature I thought this relevant.

-Any mistakes are my own and I apologise for any medical facts I may have butchered.

-Only the first couple of chapters will be set in Sherlock's childhood, more as a scene setting to give balance to the story.

-Story is available on AO3 under the same name.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft lead his little brother by his hand into the playground, musing to himself as he looked around the yard and up at the converted Victorian factory. "It looks pleasant, the playground is about one hundred by fifty yards big. It's an old Victorian factory and it looks like they only use two of the floors" He turned to look at his brother as he slowed to a stop, Sherlock was somewhere between thrilled at having a new opportunity to occupy his mind and devastated at the fact he'd be loosing out on time with Mycroft.

Mycroft crouched down in front of the younger child and began to attempt to straighten out his new uniform. His hand had come to rest over the watch at Sherlock's wrist; it'd been a present for him that he'd had commissioned. Mycroft had taken one of their father's old watches that his mother wouldn't notice had gone and had sent it away to have it converted into Braille for Sherlock. The little bumps corresponded with the hands on the clock and giving Sherlock a way to tell the time without having to ask or annoy anyone with electronic beeps.

"You look rather smart, Sherlock"

His brother grinned and reached out, his hand resting on Mycroft's cheek and his fingers gently touched the corner of his mouth and his brow. "You have your important face on" Mycroft's important face being the one he used for negotiations when it came to dealing with his brother or difficult members of the extended family.

"Of course I do, it's an important day." He smiled against Sherlock's fingers and ruffled his hair up gently. "Do you have everything?"

"Yes! You checked before we left, you know I do!" Sherlock attempted to [unsuccessfully] duck away from Mycroft's hands.

"Well then, brother mine, the door is about twenty yards from where we are at around seven o'clock. There's a couple of stairs in the way up to that though." He stood up and smiled down at his brother. The playground was slowly emptying as everyone made their way into the classrooms, soon Sherlock would be the last one left in the playground if he wasn't careful.

"Will you be here to pick me up?"

"I will, I'll stand near the door and shout for you as soon as I see you." Sherlock nodded as if to say this was perfectly reasonable before turning away from Mycroft and heading towards the door.

He listened to everyone's footsteps as they rang against the pavement, guiding himself carefully between the people. There weren't that many making their way to class considering most had already drifted inside and would be settling down before long. He drifts towards the stairs before he reaches them, noting the change in pattern of sounds when he arrives and he gently reaches out a taps his foot on the top of the first to gauge it's height. He blinked as he tried to work out how many there were, it would have been considerably easier if there hadn't been so quite so many other people trudging up them at the same time. He listened carefully, smiling as he heard the almost not-sound of someone standing still just to his left. There was a gently rattle of a tiny ball inside metal, _a whistle, guiding people in, between 25 and 40, a teacher. _

He turned himself in their direction. "Excuse me, how many steps are there?"

The man looked down at Sherlock and frowned for a moment before he realised that the student was the blind child they'd been told about in the staff meeting just yesterday. He smiled kindly as he went to automatically to reassure him, forgetting that he couldn't see. "There are four, do you need any help?"

Sherlock shakes his head and carefully makes his way up the tiny flight of stairs before coming to a stop once more, there are a few students reading out signs on the door or looking at maps and he can hear them mumbling but that doesn't help his situation at the moment. He had to turn back to the teacher and admit defeat. "I- Well, I don't know where I'm going. I believe I'm with Mrs Crompton" At least, that's what it said on his letter.

"Ah yes, I'll see if I can find someone to take you there. She's a good teacher, I'm sure you'll get along well" Sherlock began to wonder if all teachers were as condescending as this one. After all, it was a possibility.

"John! John Watson" A child skidded to a halt after racing up the steps madly, completely out of breath with his uniform askew he looked up at the man.

"Mhm?" He tried to straighten out his uniform before checking his bag which was covered in superheroes, Superman through to the x-men and back to the hulk again.

The teacher put a hand on Sherlock's shoulders and turned him around to face John. "This is Sherlock, he's going to be in your class from now on and he'll need a quick tour around. Would you mind showing him to the classrooms?" Sherlock desperately wanted to shrug the teacher's hands from his shoulders. He absolutely hated being touched by people he hadn't had a chance to get to know.

John scuffed his shoes but nodded. "Yeah, okay. Will I be told off for being late?" He has realised this might be the excuse he's looking for.

"Of course not, just don't spend too long wandering around."

Sherlock smiled and took a step towards where he could hear the boy and held out his hand. "I'm Sherlock."

John looked at his hand before shaking it and making his way into the building, holding the door open for him. "You do know only grown-ups shake people's hands, right?"

Sherlock followed along, stepping through the doorway and listening to all the subtleties in the difference of sound. There were stairs to the next floor and corridors leading away from the entrance hall he found himself in. He loved echoes, they told a story in their whispers and he had to listen to every one. These echoes told him how high and how far and he tilted his head to listen closer. He didn't answer John because he didn't want to spoil it.

"Right..." John watched Sherlock, he was a little baffled but not put off. There were a lot stranger people in school so he just headed down a corridor. "This way! Mrs Crompton's really nice, sometimes if it's rainy break and we have to stay inside she'll get biscuits out to share. She's really pretty, not all wrinkly like Mrs Perkins in the other class."

Sherlock understood that beauty and physical appearance could be a base for your judgements of someone but he never really understood _why. _It wasn't just because he couldn't relate to this visual information but it seemed rather impractical. Looks could change and be more fickle than a person's roots or personality.

"You don't say much, do you?" John interrupted his thoughts.

"Hm?" Sherlock turned his attentions back to John and followed his footsteps carefully. "Sorry, I was thinking."

John nodded and lead Sherlock down a corridor on the Grand Tour of the school. "Oh..." He searched for something else to say, trying to find a little bit of common ground so he could start a conversation. "Do you read the X-Men comics?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Um, no. Should I?"

At this John's eyes lit up as he realised he could talk about his favourite subject to someone who had never even heard of them! "Yeah! They're brilliant, they're about superheroes that try and stop the bad superheroes destroying or killing the humans, right? And then there are good humans and evil humans and some of them want to help the heroes and others want to lock them away and it's _so good"_

Sherlock grinned at that, although the idea sounded rather ridiculous, John's voice changed. It became more alive and it became something that seemed more real, more tangible. "They sound... Brilliant."

He suddenly had a thought, if they were going on the tour then he was going to need to know where certain things are. "Where are the toilets?"

"What? Oh-" John pointed down a corridor. "Over there. Now, The Avengers are amazing too you know, and comic days down at-"

"... S-sorry, where?" He shifted uncomfortably as John stopped.

He pointed again to the sign that pointed a little way down the corridor impatiently. "There!"

Sherlock by now was worrying considerably about how to phrase this, he couldn't see where John was pointing. He couldn't just guess and end up wandering into the wrong room or in the wrong direction completely. "... Could you take me?"

"Are you blind or something?!" John turned around to look at Sherlock in disbelief.

_Ohgodohgodohgod. _

"Y-yes." He blinks softly, his body tilted in John's direction. The way John said it, it sounded like an accusation as if it were terrible, as if it meant he wouldn't be friends with him. "C-can we still be friends?"

John looked a little shocked before he took a step towards the other boy. "... Sorry- I didn't mean- … Of course you can be my friend." He waved his hand in front of Sherlock's eyes curiously as if testing to see if Sherlock was telling the truth.

"I can hear you, you know. I'm not deaf." Sherlock pouted indignantly

John dropped his hand guiltily before taking a step back and started walking again, this time a little slower. "Sorry. Is that why your eyes are that colour? … I just thought that they- I don't know."

Sherlock smiles slightly and follows John along, much a like a lost puppy would if he'd found someone to take him home. "It's fine, it's all fine. I promise. You can look at them if you want."

"I can?" John stops, almost causing Sherlock to walk into him as he span around to peer at Sherlock's eyes in curiosity. He smiled realising they actually weren't as scary as he thought they might be. "They're cool. Like Cyclops's eyes when he isn't wearing glasses."

Sherlock smiled tentatively and nodded, holding out his hand. "I suppose that's... cool. May I?"

"... May you what?"

"I want to know what you look like." Sherlock said, frowning.

"Oh- Oh!" John nodded, glancing around. If his friends saw this he'd be mortified. When he realised the corridor was empty he lifted Sherlock's hand to his cheek.

Sherlock's fingers gently explored his cheek, curiously touching the corner of his lips and the smooth skin of his brow. He ran his fingers over a small section of John's hair and he frowned. "You have soldiers hair."

John's eyes widen, that was rather clever. "Yeah, dad's a soldier. I'm going to be one too."

Sherlock's frown deepened and he dropped his hand away. Soldiers died, they went away to war to fight for other people and they died. That was their job, to work in front of the fire and never be afraid. He was determined to keep John safe now, he'd be able to do it.

* * *

John lead Sherlock to their classroom quarter of an hour later, now thoroughly late and completely surpassing the stage where it is acceptable to run into a classroom clutching ones chest and yelling that the mutants attacked and sorry I'm late. Believe me, John has tried many a time.

Mrs Crompton looked up at the two children standing in the door and she smiled kindly. "Late agai-"

"Mr Allan said I had to take Sherlock around the school and give him a tour and make sure that he knew where to go and where our classroom was so he wouldn't get lost and there's a lot to show him and-!" He stopped for breath after giving the rushed explanation, looking rather flustered.

"That's perfectly fine, John, if you would like to take a seat I'll introduce our new member of class." She said with a grin. John trudged over the desk and dragged his bag along behind him, practically throwing himself into his seat as he sat at his desk dramatically.

"Sherlock, come to the front please"

The teacher took him to the front of the room and turned him around to face the class, hands once again resting on his shoulders. Sherlock wriggled forward, knocking them off to get free, he hadn't so much as spoken to the woman so there would be no way he could feel comfortable with physical contact as yet, teacher or not.

"All right you lot, calm down" She addressed the class casually, the children immediately sitting up and turning around to face her. "This is Sherlock, he's our new class member I was telling you about. As you can see he has a few visual problems so I want you all to be nice to him and help him if he needs it."

The boy pulled a disgusted face, if he'd wanted to tell the class he was blind he would of done so himself; not with the aid of a completely incompetent teacher. There were a few whispers, he only heard them because he was listening. His sense of hearing highly acute compared to that of someone who has to deal with thirty or so children in a class. If he was hurt by the whispers of 'freak' or 'weirdo' he never showed it.

"Right, I want you to go and take a seat by John seeing as you already seem to know him." At this John tapped his pencil gently against the table top which Sherlock heard immediately and, with a smile, he set off towards the sound. John was becoming incredibly useful indeed. He trailed his fingers lightly against the desks until the tapping stopped and he slid into place beside his new found friend.

The other boy was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement. "That was clever, wasn't it?" Referring to his obviously genius idea with the pencil.

"Brilliant." He grinned as he rifled through his bag that Mycroft had helped to pack and pulled out a tiny tape recorder which he set on the table top. "I think it was brilliant."

"Mhm." John stared curiously at the small recording device Sherlock had put onto his table top. "Haven't you got any book- … No wait, that doesn't make sense. You record what Miss says instead?"

Sherlock grinned and nodded, thankful that John had managed to think for himself. They were speaking in hushed conspiratorial whispers and somehow it felt more like a secret. "Of course I do… So, who's Cyclops?"

They found themselves deep in conversation over the next hour, smiles turned into laughter and they fell into an easy friendship. Somehow John found himself agreeing to read comics to Sherlock if Sherlock would help him with his maths. They laughed about bees and the fact that they shouldn't be able to fly. Sherlock almost worshipped John when he found out that he knew bee facts too. At break time they sat under the huge oak tree at the bottom of the field, sharing the chocolate bar that John had bought with him.

It was not exactly what they had been expected.

The school day ended far too quickly for Sherlock's taste, John helping him from the classroom in the rush towards the door and they grinned at each other as they headed towards the door to where Mycroft was waiting.

"You're fantastic you know." John said, a little embarrassed, to his friend.

"You think? Really?"

John nodded and held onto Sherlock's sleeve, almost as if he let go then Sherlock would drift away from him. "I do."

"… Well, you're fantastic too." He smiled softly to himself. "Thanks for standing up for me at lunch,"

There had been a small altercation at lunch where a group of their class mates had come over to where they were sitting asking to 'look at the freaks eyes'. Sherlock hadn't known what to do, he just shuffled away; backing against the tree in fear before John had jumped up. He had yelled at them, saying that they had to be polite and that Sherlock had wonderful eyes. No one would mess with John Watson, it was common knowledge his father was in the army and rumours had spread that if you upset John Watson then his father would have something to say about it.

"You're welcome, they're horrible anyway. If you stick around with me then I promise they'll stay away!" John currently felt like a superhero looking after a not-so-boring human.

"I thought today was going to be awful, I really did. Mycroft said it'd be hard to get friends." Sherlock grinned smugly, glad to have proved Mycroft wrong. For once.

"Well, my mum has a friend she met in primary school. They meet up for coffee every Tuesday. That could be us when we're old like them, we'd be less boring though. We'd go on adventures and you can solve crime and I'll be your soldier!"

Sherlock nodded. "You're not allowed to leave now." His voice full of smiles as he walked out the door.


End file.
